SinfulMotivation
by thestarcrossed
Summary: Grimmjow believes himself to be a sinner... [[ Mature One-shot - Smut ]]


It's a simple assault of fingertips against a curved, nude hip. A pinch of a calloused thumb. Index, middle and ring fingers digging themselves in. He had a bad habit of lifting his pinky; not like she was complaining. It was easier to explain that she bumped into something instead of saying she had spent the night beneath someone.

The sheets underneath her were sticky, clinging to her like a second skin but she prevailed. Burnt orange spread out over the stark whiteness of the cover, appearing more sunset than the familiar sienna. It pooled at the base of her back, fanning out around her as she panted, submerged in the weight of pleasure.

A heavenly blush was creeping upon on the apples of her cheeks, kiss-swollen lips parted and forming little 'o's and 'ahh's as they came in heavy session. But that didn't stop the man between her thighs. Matter of fact, it encouraged him to go further, faster, harder. Natural male instinct kicking in; to take more. More than she could possibly give but he was hungry, needy and he wanted it.

His question, regardless of the current situation, was a mantra in her head. 'Do you want to go home with me?' A broken record. Yet, she couldn't help but enjoy the attack of his tongue, the brush of his soft lips. His shoulders, broad and scarred from years of hollow battles, rocked side to side in their endeavor. A hum rumbled from his chest somewhere, a nod of approval as he eased himself in deeper.

Electric blue looked wildly vibrant against the golden color of her inner thigh. It even tickled causing the muscle to quiver with excitement. Closer, o-oh.. closer, yes. Her voice was the only one to be heard despite it not being vocal.

The mattress shifted with his weight as he scooted up onto his knees, bringing them up beneath him, allowing him room to hover. Arms trailed up, hands catching the curvy woman by the hips, forcing her down on his forearms and into the bends of elbows. The greed was consuming. Was it worth the death that may follow? Yes, yes, it was. Grimmjow didn't care if Ulquorria knew or not. He wasn't about to give up personal information to the likes of her without tasting a bit of honey.

12:04 AM flashed angrily, provided with the dim glow of the bathroom light, enough to shine a way to her sweet center. His tongue was a force of nature. Rushed but deliberate come-hereth motions of his rough fingertips playing over an unseen button. Her body rolled naturally, upwards then falling back. An elbow keeping her propped, her body off the bed while she tried not to succumb to the tightening of the pleasure coil.

A little death tettered on the ledge. A tingling, a twisting.

"Hmmm.." Vibrated over her clit and up through the center of her. Pants came in waves, yelps and cries alike couldn't be told apart but he knew. She was falling apart in his grasp, in his mouth. A rush of sweet liquid, muscles convulsing around his fingers as they strived to go further.

At the snap of release, her back bowed. The female orgasm was amazing to watch; especially from his standpoint. Orihime did it the best. He had never forgotten it. How could someone? Was this what goth-fuck liked? How the blush spread out from her nose, conquering her cheeks in a bright rose red or was it how her mewls became one long syllable? Her body didn't twist around like some women, no, it bowed like an archer's hunting bow. A single motion, her shoulders dipped down, her thighs quivering and quaking around his head.

Grimmjow was addicted.

Her hands were in her own hair, never in his. He assumed it was because he wasn't but something temporary. Did he honestly think he deserved what came next? Princess was flourishing in his skills. Breasts, as heavy as they were, were heaving. Rosy colored nipples stiff as they bounced in her struggle. Even the tautness of her stomach was happily jumping, twitching.

"No, no... Princesa. No, he terminado." His words fluttered over her center, her sweetness coating his lips. Of course, he wasn't done. He was just getting started. Would anybody miss her? Doubt it. Would anybody come looking? No. Grimmjow was smarter, wiser. Taking her home had been apart of the plan for a while.

So what if he shared it with another woman. That woman wasn't here now and if she was, she wasn't letting her presence be known. He had to be thankful. Kneeling at another woman's alter, praying to her like she was some sinful God while expecting a miracle. Orihime was those things. Out of reach, untouchable, and forbidden.

Ulquorria would have his head on a pike. He didn't want to be found but Grimmjow wasn't a martyr. He was a king among thieves. A taker of hearts, pussies and any other hole he could shove his dick in but this? Ah, this... Was like hitting the opium dragon and praying that he didn't fall face first into the shit about to be slung his way. Why did it have to be like this? Why did Ulquorria turn her away? He couldn't wrap his head around it. She was perfect.

So perfect that as he placed one last kiss to her peach blossom petals that by leaning over her, he planted a hand directly beside her head and pumped himself within his own grasp. Every risk was worth taking if the risk was of some importance.

Basking in the glow of her orgasm, he had to cherish every inch of that sun-kissed skin. Natural sun painted her flesh, outlines of some little string bikini stood out like cream against the gold color of the tan. He took note that it was only about the thickness of her hips for those milky breasts were as colored as the rest of her. Shameless, tanning half-nude.

Nudging his knees up against the backs of her thighs, he nudged himself further, closing the space between their bodies. Blue eyes were as vivid as his hair. Two of his fingers caught a strand of cinnamon, fumbling it through calloused tips as he pivoted his hips forward, careful to keep his weight off of her.

A broad-tip flickered up the center of her, her body responding with a delicious roll. He even paid special attention to the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerve-endings where she ended. One smooth tip, hot and velveteen, caressing over and over. He wanted her to squirm. Not just any kind.. but the kind where her head would flail.

Flail, indeed. Orihime's head went from one side to the other, heavily panting. She was too sensitive from the first pleasure wave and now, this would be like the cherry on top. Shimmying her hips downward, she made sure to keep directly beneath him, thighs laid wide and inviting. Bruise me, she wanted to say, take me and don't stop. Yet words failed her. Never quite making it past her lips.


End file.
